You Always Hurt
by fer1213
Summary: S7, post "Get It Done" A fill-in-the-blank fic. SB


**You Always Hurt**

After talking to Willow about what she'd seen—the thousands upon thousands of ubervamps coming—Buffy couldn't sleep.  She knew she should.  She should take advantage of having one of the only single-occupant rooms in the house.  But when she closed her eyes, all she saw was death.

Finally giving up, she got out of bed and put her hair in a ponytail.  Then she found a clean pair of jeans, a shirt and her boots.  She grabbed her jean jacket on the way out of her room.

Two steps into the hall and she tripped over Xander.  "What the hell are you doing sleeping on the floor?" she hissed at him.

He rubbed his arm where the pointy toe of her boot had left an imprint.  "I'm sentry man tonight.  I'm supposed to make sure you aren't disturbed."

"I can't sleep," she said.  "I'm going to do a quick patrol."

"Aye, aye, captain."

"Quit that, Xander."

"Aye—okay."

"You can have my room, if you want," she told him.

"Won't you need it when you get back?" he asked, even though he had gathered his bed things from the floor and was already moving in that direction.

"I doubt I'll sleep tonight even after I get back.  Really.  Take it.  Night."

"Night, Buffy," Xander said, closing the bedroom door.

Buffy managed to get to the front door without disturbing anyone else.  She hesitated before closing it behind her, wondering if she should ask Spike to come with her.  But she'd heard how he killed and dragged that demon back to the house.  He was probably exhausted.

She made her way through the nearest cemetery, running her hands over smooth headstones as she contemplated the future.  She was losing hope.  Not that she'd even say anything to the others.  Not even to Willow.  They needed her to be strong, to be the one in charge with all the answers.  The weight of it all was grinding her down.  And if her vision was true, things were about to get a hell of a lot worse.

She wished she and Giles could talk like they used to.  But since he left last year, things between them had been beyond strained.  Xander, Anya, Dawn—they had their own stuff to worry about.  The only one who understood, the only one who she was completely honest with, was also the one she'd torn a new one for tonight.  Way to go, Buffy.  Rally those troops!

She felt him before she saw him.  For a moment she wondered if she'd made him appear somehow with her thoughts.  But this was Spike.  He always seemed to know when she needed him.

"Hey," he said, coming alongside her.

"Hey."

"You're out late.  After the adventure you had tonight, I'd have thought you'd be dead to the world.  Or some sleep related euphemism that's a bit more appropriate and not so…"  He shrugged.

Buffy smiled.  It felt strange on her face.  "Yeah.  You'd think so, wouldn't you?  But there I was and the sleep just wouldn't come.  So I decided to do what I do best.  Humiliate and kill things."  She shrugged too.

"You didn't humiliate me, Buffy," Spike said quietly.  "Well, you might've if I'd cared what any of those wankers thought.  Actually, you did me a favor."

"How's that?"

"Got my rocks back, haven't I?"

Buffy stopped next to a stone bench and sat down.  Spike sat beside her.  "I do need you strong, Spike," she said.  "I need you to be with me.  The things that are coming—well, they're bad.  Really bad.  I have to count on you to stick it out with me."

"You know I will."

"Still, I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Spike leaned over and dangled his hands between his knees.  "You always hurt the ones you…"  He looked over at her.

She tilted her head at him.  "Maybe.  But you really shouldn't, should you?"

Spike sat up straight again.  "Could serenade you with a verse of 'Cruel to be Kind', but I think I'll save you the pain of that."

He stood and held a hand out to her.  "Let's patrol, love."

She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.  She didn't let go.  "So, we're good?" she asked him.

"Better than good.  We're fucking fantastic.  We're gonna destroy us some First Evil noncorporeal ass.  Somehow."  He gestured at himself.  "I've got my jacket.  What else could we need?"

"Well," Buffy said, "since you've got the jacket…"  She smiled again.  A record.  She squeezed his hand.  "Spike."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

He touched her cheek.  "Anytime, Slayer.  Let's go find some nasties to kill."


End file.
